


The Nature of Thunder

by lokilickedme



Series: Tempest [10]
Category: Loki (Marvel) - Fandom, Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Animal Transformation, Dark Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Feels, Rough Foreplay, Rough Sex, Transfiguration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 05:56:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3839629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokilickedme/pseuds/lokilickedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki steals his favorite plaything from under Fury's nose and returns to Asgard with her.  Part 10 of the Tempest series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nature of Thunder

 

 

Our room has a damping field around it to prevent me from teleporting myself in or out, therefore we must be outside before I can take us to the place where I secretly enter this realm.  I know there is at least one armed guard posted outside the door; I also know that I am monitored as I come and go, because Fury is dying to find my entry location so he can close it permanently.  When we leave here, the woman will be detained until I am gone so that I cannot abscond with her, while two agents tail me until I begin teleporting myself around the city to lose them.  They know I'm going to do it so I don't know why they bother to follow me at all...but then nothing that these humans do makes much sense to me.  I lead them around by the nose, roaming the streets, going into shops with names like Victoria something or other and teleporting back outside once they have been detained by eager sales clerks anxious to sell them ladies' lingerie.  And then I wait for them outside so that I can lead them to the next embarrassing stop.  They are obligated to follow me no matter where I go, so I have a bit of fun with them.  I sometimes even vanish right in front of them only to reappear a moment later behind them with the old tap on the shoulder trick.  It never fails to amuse me and annoy them.

But this day, I am not in the mood to play with my dimwitted agent friends.  The only thing on my mind is getting my woman to Asgard without Fury interfering.  

I transform her into her wolf form and open the door.

"Go, darling," I order as she leaps past me and runs by the shocked agent.  The sight of a wolf bounding at him freezes him in shock and I am able to step around behind him.  As she reaches the end of the hallway I change her again with a few whispered words, grabbing the agent by the throat and pushing him into our room as I slam the door shut behind me and morph myself into him.  The woman becomes a cat, small and sleek and quick, slipping easily past the second guard in the adjoining corridor without being seen.

The agent whose face I have claimed has recovered from his shock and is shouting, beating furiously on the door and demanding to be let out.  I mutter a few words as I walk away, listening for the telltale thud of his body hitting the floor as a long, deep, memory-erasing sleep overtakes him.

"A cat got in here," I remark to no one in particular as I enter the main office, stopping to pick up my sweet little pussy from under a desk.  "Must have slipped in when I came back from lunch."

Everyone looks at me, but of course they do not see _me._ I scan the keycard I lifted from the agent whose face I now wear and open the front door, turning the cat out with a swat to her backside and a quick "Shoo, little one," before I disappear into the mens' room, then from the building entirely.

On the sidewalk outside, I choose a random face from a passing stranger and turn myself once more.  I pick up the cat that is purring and circling my ankles, rubbing herself against my legs and looking at me expectantly, and hold her to my chest as I pet her silky fur.  "In time, little one," I reassure her.  "I think I'll keep you in this form for a little longer."  She pushes her head against my chin and digs her claws into my shoulder, giving me a quick nip with her sharp little teeth.  I grin at her.  She knows what I like.  

"We have a little time," I tell her.

Turning myself into a sleek black tomcat, I chase her down an alley.

 

The trip to Asgard is as noneventful as it always is; flashing bright light, beautiful colors swirling together, the sensation of falling and flying and waking from sleep all at once as you are pulled physically through millennia of lightyears, then the stomach-churning dead stop followed by a disorienting confusion and dizziness as your body acclimates to being in another realm.  The fabric of Asgard envelops me with a welcoming warmth and I am home, once again.

The woman beside me slips out of my arms, falls to her knees and vomits.  It is a typical response to the physical effects of one's first worldwalking experience.  I still get queasy myself from time to time.

"You'll be alright in a moment," I assure her as I look around to ensure we have not been seen.  This entrance spot is one of the few undiscovered portals I have left and I wish to keep it secret.  She waves me away as she regathers her wits about her; I feel pity for her, on the ground and helpless as she is.  Hopefully this will be the only time she has to make this trip.

Yes, I do intend to keep her.

No, I haven't told her, not yet. 

 

She revels in the beauty of this realm, drinking it in like a sweet heady wine, the joy of wonder and new discovery lighting her eyes as I show her this place that I have taken for granted for so many centuries.  I think, with her here, I perhaps could be happy again.  The discontent growing inside me has been there for so long that I have come to think of it as a permanent part of me; now I carry a glimmer of hope that contentment might finally find me.

Contentment in the form of a woman, no less.  A _mortal human_ woman.  I, Loki of Asgard, who have never needed anyone.  Cast out to die alone, a solitude that seeped into the very fabric of my being during that brief exile as an infant, when my soul accepted that I was unwanted, unworthy, and alone, never expecting to be anything but.  It is who I am, _what_   I am, and what I imagined I would be for eternity.

And then she stepped into the elevator with me.

And now I am no longer alone.

The bitterness in my soul has been tempered by her sweetness.  My pain is softened by the pleasure of her.  Whatever inadequacy there is in me, it is canceled out by the completeness in her.  

_The darkness put into me by the Other is eclipsed by her light._

The thought of living without her is now unacceptable.

And yet I know I must...one day, when I outlive her.  It leaves a bitter venomous taste in my mouth, but I choke it down and cast the thought aside. She is with me now; the future will be dealt with another time.

 

"Why do you never use my name?"  Her voice doesn't sound hurt, just curious.  

I lower my book and look at her.  "Do you wish me to?"

She shrugs.  "I don't know.  I just think it's a little...odd...that I've never heard you say it."

I smile at her, trying to ascertain the purpose behind this line of questioning.  It is true, I have never used her name when in her presence.  It is a tactic I picked up long ago in the brothels of Pendelgrav, where I learned that using a whore's name gave her a sense of person and power.  Take it away by never acknowledging she has a name, and she becomes meeker, easier to control.  It is simpler this way, lazy perhaps, but sometimes it is best to be the only one in the room with power.  When dealing with Pendelgravian prostitutes, most definitely.  I have used this tactic many times, with friends and foes alike, and it never fails to have the effect I desire.  Take away a person's sense of identity, let them know you do not see them as who they are but simply as whatever crass descriptor you have chosen to refer to them as, and you have instantly put yourself above them psychologically.

But this woman is not a foe and she is no whore, although I do enjoy calling her such from time to time, and she seems to take no offense to it.  I wouldn't have cared if she did, at the start, but now my fondness for her has grown to the point where I do not wish to insult her with either words nor actions.  There is no need for me to keep her powerless.  If I gave her power, she would not use it against me.

"Alright.  I will use your name, if that is what you wish."  I tip my head to her, acknowledging that she is worthy of my consideration.  The smile that lights her face shows me that my small courtesy will not be taken lightly.

I continue reading my book as she wanders the room, her keen eyes admiring the paintings, her little hands tentatively touching the ornate scrolled etchwork that adorns almost everything in this realm.  Her obvious appreciation for the beauty of the work reminds me that I am graced with a lovely kingdom, one that I have taken for granted for far too long.  I glance from her face to the carved marble sculpture she is admiring and for the first time in many centuries I realize it truly is a beauteous work of art.

I watch her for a bit, unable to keep myself from smiling at her childlike wonder.  When finally I close my book and let it drop to the chairside table with an echoing thud, she jumps, startled, and spins to find my eyes on her.  Her shy smile stirs something deep inside my loins and I hold my hand out to her, patting my thigh with my other hand to indicate she should come and sit on my lap.  She obeys without hesitation.

I pull her up against my body as she sits on my leg and I hold her tightly, my arms wrapped securely about her.  "Does your new home suit you, Anna?"

She looks at me with surprise - I wonder briefly if it is because I have used her name or because I have just dropped the bombshell that she won't be going back to Midgard.  This isn't something we have discussed yet.  I hold my breath for a moment, half expecting her to protest and demand that I take her home, but the outburst does not come, and she simply snuggles to my chest and pushes her head up under my chin.  She has nothing to say, not yet, and I leave the silence as it is, despite my innate tendency to want to poke everything with a sharp stick until it either entertains me or fights back.

Eventually I stand with her in my arms and carry her to the bed.  We have yet to anoint my emerald silk sheets with our mingled bodily secretions, an oversight that I intend to remedy immediately.  I wave away her clothes with a downward flick of my wrist and then do the same with my own, an urgency growing inside me that will not allow for a slow undressing ceremony.  I just want to be in her as deep as I can get, as quickly as I can get there.  I do not give her time to prepare herself nor do I do anything to help; I simply lay her down, position myself over her, and bury my cock in her swiftly.

She does not cry out or express discomfort as I push myself deep.  To my surprise and delight, she draws her knees up to my shoulders, allowing me to slip them over my upper arms, tilting her up and opening her completely to me.  The feeling of being this deep in her belly is overwhelming and I drive harder into her until I come just moments later, shuddering and gasping, falling heavily onto her until I am able to catch my breath again.  She strokes me soothingly as I recover my wits and lies still beneath me, though I know I am crushing her.  

"Ohh my sweet little darling," I murmur against her throat as her fingertips tickle lightly over my ribs.  "Do not think for a moment that I am finished with you...you may consider that your foreplay, and it is all of it I am going to allow you tonight."

I am not sure why having her here, in my home, in my bed, is having this effect on me.  I want to use her up, cruelly and completely, and I don't even feel like being nice about it.  I desire to make her cry and then hold her till she quiets, then put her through it all over again.  It is likely my natural inborn dominance reacting to the shyness she has exhibited since her arrival here, but suddenly I cannot get enough of her.  I am like a predator circling an injured rabbit.  

I take her again, as hard and fast as I did the first time, but this time she catches up to me and keeps pace.  By the time we finish we are sweating and grunting, our passion taking the wordless route, with nothing intelligible passing between us.  It is wild and abandoned of civility, our bodies punishing one another, hands pulling and slapping, teeth biting, hips grinding and pushing until we lay exhausted in a puddle of our own come and sweat.  And when we have recovered sufficiently, she tops me, sitting on my hips and taking me deep into her body, pressing her hand over my mouth to let me know I am not to interfere with her pursuit of another climax.  I do not comply, as I'm sure she did not really expect me to.  

 _"Ohhh please Papa,"_   she moans through clenched teeth, her head dropped back, her long hair teasing my upper thighs as I sit up and wrap my arms around her.  I bite her breast and slap her bottom as I flip her over onto her back and push her legs up, bending them at the knees and pushing her down into the mattress, all in one quick motion that allows her no time to protest.

My fingers find her clit and I stroke it roughly, watching her squirm under me in discomfort and intense pleasure.  I enjoy making her unable to tell the difference between the two; the delicious look of confusion and consternation marring her pretty face fills me with a perverted sense of accomplishment.  She is writhing, pulling her hips down to put space between us, the friction of our bodies grinding together too great to bear against her tender skin.  I plunge harder into her so that she knows she cannot escape me, not even by inches, and dig my fingers more firmly into her sensitive clit.  

 _"What does my darling want?"_  I hiss through my clenched teeth.  I know she seeks a quick release, but I wish to prolong her agony till she can do nothing but scream my name.  This is our first time in my bed and I intend to make it a christening not to be soon forgotten.   _"What do you need from papa?"_

She is beyond reason, beyond the ability to form words, beyond the capability to control herself.  She is completely in my hands, and I do with her as I please, pulling out and turning her so that she is on her stomach, lifting her hips till she is on her knees with her chest on the bed, her precious little ass tipped up and waiting for me.  I plunge deep into her again and feel myself throb painfully when she cries out at the sudden shift of position and the brutal depth to which I fill her without warning.  Her hands grip at the sheets frantically while my own grip her hips with a bruising force, holding her still so that she cannot wriggle away from me as I pound into her endlessly.  There is no space left between us now; every thrust ends with my body flush against hers, the fronts of my thighs slapping hard against the backs of hers, knocking her forward with each contact.  She has given up trying to ease the intensity of my invasion and her back goes limp, taking it, the moans and sobs spilling from her lips now in equal measures.

I know she is completely powerless.  She could not escape me if she wished to.  Her body has been beaten into complete submission by the ferocity of my claim on her.  The dark side of my nature has been appeased.

I slip an arm around her belly and lift her so that she is upright on her knees, leaning back against me, my cock still deep in her cunt as I cradle her to my chest.  My other hand moves down to resume stroking between her legs, much more gently this time, giving her featherlight touches and just enough stimulation to ease her to the brink.  I feel her back begin to tense and press my lips to her ear, returning autonomy to her with a few words, giving her power.

_"Come for me, Anna."_

The sound of her own name startles her and she jerks in surprise, but I have already brought her so close to the edge that it only takes a few strokes more before she is coming, trembling violently in my arms as I hold her, moaning in small high-pitched wails as she pushes back against me.  I continue whispering in her ear, encouraging her to take her pleasure, saying her name over and over, letting her know she is worthy of having me speak it.  She returns the kindness as her orgasm rips through her; her head falls back onto my shoulder and she groans lustily as I kiss the side of her neck, listening to the words that begin tumbling from her lips.

_"Oh Loki...oh god Loki...ohhh...please..."_

The sound of my name has the same effect on me as hers did on her, and I push into her a few more times till my own climax overtakes me.  Her cunt is still convulsing around my cock as I spill my seed deep into her.  We fall onto the bed together and I shift slightly to the side so that my weight does not crush her, leaving my leg strewn across the back of her thighs, breathing heavily against her shoulder as the intensity of our release begins to fade from our bodies.  After a few long moments I stroke her hair back off her face to find her eyes closed tightly, her lips trembling.  I kiss her, thinking she is merely overcome by the primal fierceness of the pleasure that has just torn its way through us.  But as tears begin to slip from under her lashes, I push up onto my elbow and rub her back gently.

"It's alright, darling," I soothe her quietly.  I press a kiss to the back of her shoulder and hear her whispering.  I lower my head so I can hear her, her voice so soft and broken with barely restrained tears that her words are almost invisible, swirls of vanishing smoke on the air.

 _"You said my name when you came,"_   she whispers.  

I am sure I must have.  But she is still speaking, so I press my ear close and search for her fragile words.  They are spoken more quietly than the first, almost as if she is afraid the meaning behind them will be lost if they are heard.

_"You said you love me, Loki..."_

 

 

 

 


End file.
